Smoke You Out
by Star1086
Summary: "I think I remember why I never let you drive," Olivia said with a sideways glance." Peter drives Olivia home. Set during Bad Dreams and post Shadows fic.


A/N: This fic goes along the same canon of my "Shadows" fic, and I would suggest reading that one before jumping in to this for better context, though it's not really necessary. Based on the premise that Peter slept with Olivia's sister in season one. Takes place during Bad Dreams and inspired by many long conversations/speculation as to why Olivia never lets Peter drive. Beta thanks to CoffinWood and as always, all feedback welcomed.

* * *

"You doing okay? You look like hell."

"Thanks, that means a lot."

Peter decided on a softer approach. "Seriously Dunham, you look like you've been put through the wringer."

Olivia took a moment before answering, her voice grave. "Yeah, I think so…I honestly wish I could say I'm not used to rummaging around other people's heads."

"And having not slept for three days straight probably has nothing to do with it."

Olivia ignored him. "I'll admit the stripper was not a fun experience," she said through a stifled yawn.

Peter took a hard right turn through the yellow light, the wheels on Olivia's FBI-issued SUV squealing underfoot, and earning him a stern glare from the passenger seat.

"Sorry," Peter said, gripping the steering wheel harder than he needed to, trying to steady his focus onto the road ahead. "It's not often you actually let me drive. I'm out of practice." His fingers fidgeted over the steering wheel and he knew Olivia was looking at him.

"Are_ you_ doing okay?" Olivia finally broke through the awkward silence as she pried her hand from the overhead grip. The No Sleeps she'd picked up and whatever drugs Walter had given her were making her feel punch-drunk and Peter's erratic driving certainly wasn't helping.

In fact, Peter had been the definition of weird the minute she had opened her eyes in the lab, the red-green lights of Walter's sleep emulator flickering brightly overhead. It lit Peter's face with a soft glow that didn't match his hard face and she felt so disoriented that she had to cling to him to ground herself.

The sensation of being awake and _her _was a sudden contrast after sharing a bed with a woman before slitting her throat; yanked out of the mind of the man with the scar on his temple whose consciousness she'd snuck into and acted like a stowaway before terror pulled her out. Peter had been the first thing she saw, his concern deepening the dark valley between his eyes, his pupils blasted open and his hold a little too firm as she tried to shake off the assaulting images she witnessed. He offered to drive her home to spare her from explaining the more embarrassing details of what she saw to Walter, and for that she was eternally grateful.

"I guess I'm a little distracted," Peter admitted as he tried to shake off the memory of the sounds Olivia had made in the lab, but failing miserably as they replayed mercilessly in his mind. The little guttural moans were soft and intimate; tickling his ears and making the hairs on his neck stand on end to the point where he felt close to losing it himself.

He kept his eyes forward, trying to dissect the differences between the noises Olivia made and the ones he remembered coming out of Rachel's mouth when he opened her legs and buried himself inside her.

Stop. He tries to shake loose of the memory.

"I'm sorry, what?" he said when he realized that she was waiting for him to answer a question.

Below the inherent exhaustion lying naked on her face he could see the concern etched there too. Concern for him. Concern she certainly wouldn't have if she'd known that he'd come into her home after finding the bottom of a bottle and found her sister instead. His stomach seized; the flare of guilt hot in his gut. Sleeping with Rachel felt like a lifetime ago, and ever since then he'd tried desperately to keep that bit of knowledge from Olivia, although he could never place with any real satisfaction the reason why he kept it hidden.

Olivia was little more than a confidant, a hair's breadth between a friend and an unwelcome tether to a place he didn't want to be. Or, if he were being honest with himself, at least that's what she used to be.

He wasn't so sure lately. Especially after the one night stand with her sister, his failed experiment to try to get under Olivia's skin. How long could he hope that Rachel would keep it from her sister? Could he last before he cracked and told her himself? He'd go to the grave with it. He shook those thoughts away and forced himself to listen to catch the tail end of her conversation.

"…I suppose I haven't been myself either," Olivia continued without noticing his distraction, her eyes glassy from exhaustion. Peter had almost forgotten she was still in the car. "The sooner we catch this guy the sooner I'll be able to sleep again." She stretched her arms above her head and Peter caught the wrinkled fabric of her shirt as it slithered up to expose the skin of her stomach.

"Whoa," she said as Peter pulled his eyes back to the road a second too late.

He gripped the wheel hard and barely had time to slam on the breaks in time to stop for the red light, flinging them both forward in their seats and forcing Olivia to brace herself with a hand against the dash. He was going to fucking kill somebody if he didn't pull himself together. Sighing, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets and took a deep and steadying breath.

"Sorry."

He felt uncomfortable with what happened tonight; his reaction to the noises she made that certainly weren't meant for him to hear; the way his presence soothed her when she was under. It was even worse that it was his father who instructed him to touch her. Like he _knew._

And he certainly wasn't comfortable with the fact that he liked touching her. Or that he wanted to do it again.

Peter couldn't keep himself from comparing the sisters and wondering how similar it would be to back Olivia against the wall, to feel her nails stamping into his skin and that breath on his neck. How ridiculously good she would feel.

He had to shake his head to cover the sudden shiver that raked up his back.

"I think I remember why I never let you drive," Olivia said with a sideways glance. When she saw Peter's whitened face she stopped. "Are you sure you're alright?" and reached her hand to rest on Peter's shoulder. He jumped, a car horn blaring behind them telling him that he was currently sitting through the green light. He arranged his features carefully, flashing the well-practiced bullshit smile she usually saw right through.

"You're not the only one who hasn't slept," he lied, pulling his gaze away as soon as he could. "Let's go get something to eat."

"You think that's a good idea?" Olivia tried to protest but Peter waved her off as he looked at her flushed cheeks.

"I haven't seen you eat anything but those caffeine pills and a few gallons of coffee. I'm not convinced that you're not going to drop dead as soon as you walk through the door to your apartment. Besides, there's a little falafel place in a few miles that's not too bad." Peter didn't bother to wait for her to answer as he made a calculated left, and she realized that they were probably already halfway there.

"Thanks," she said as she burrowed into the seat beside him. "I'm not used to having anybody care whether I eat or not." It was a slip; something she'd never admit if she wasn't beyond exhausted and delirious. Peter arranged himself, lips pursed. He sensed something new about her and couldn't help but prod the dragon.

"You know," he said carefully, "I meant what I said before," he admitted as he stared into the taillights of the car in front of them, the haunting memory of her being abducted by the jerk-off Loeb and experimented on still a fresh wound on his skin. "And just because you're capable of taking care of yourself, just humor me and let me make sure you eat something every once in a while." He found her face again and there was a ghost of a smile she was trying hard to hide. Time to strike. Because not knowing wasn't something he was comfortable with.

"Besides, I don't want any angry phone calls from Rachel."

As soon as he mentioned Rachel Olivia stiffened, just for the briefest of moments, but long enough for Peter to notice. And just long enough to realize he was clenching his jaw again.

"Yeah, wouldn't want that," she grumbled before she resumed rubbing the puffy skin under her eyes. There was something in her voice that put Peter on edge. He held his breath to see if she'd said anything else, his palms clammy as he waits to see if she'll arrive at the inevitable conclusion he hopes she won't reach.

After a few silent moments tick by, he breathes a little easier.

Peter silently processed the new information. So Rachel hadn't said anything. He concentrated on breathing evenly, settling into his seat and planning his next step. He knew he should leave it alone. But as anal-retentive as he was, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"You could always come home with me," he said evenly, earning an exasperated look from Olivia. "If you don't want to go home like this in front of your sister, that is. Walter'll be at the lab for a while with Astrid and though it's not pretty, the motel room does have a bed." Peter looked sideways at Olivia, cataloguing her reaction, watching as she processed the information. Peter stayed silent and let her think it over.

"You think you're going to be any good to anyone right now? Dead on your feet lie this?" Olivia doesn't look convinced, but she's still listening.

"No funny business." He tacks on and he feels her tip. Her mood shifts back to him. Olivia let out a sigh and leaned against the headrest behind her, eyes squeezed shut.

"You're probably right." She said after a few moments, but noticeably not agreeing to anything.

"So you want me to call Rachel?" Peter asked and Olivia stiffened again. The smirk was gone by the time Olivia looked at him again.

"That's not necessary," Olivia's answer is curt, eyes springing open. The look she gives Peter is hard, lips tight and the coldness in her voice ruffles him. "I don't want you worrying her about me."

"Then who else is supposed worry about you if not your family?" Peter asked and studied Olivia's face, her cheeks flushing in the quickly darkening cab of the car. "You don't think she deserves to know what's going on?"

There were danger signs everywhere, but Peter ignored them all to continue his gentle nudging.

And like that, Olivia snapped like a rubber band. "And what is it that you suggest I tell her?" Olivia's face was shadowed, lit only by the passing traffic like a strobe light. "What can I say to my sister that won't terrify her? That won't give her nightmares?"

Olivia's arms pulled around her chest, her head swirling with Nick Lane's steel eyes and the people she's watched him murder. "I don't want that for my sister."

Peter's jaw tightened; his cheek jumping as he thought of a new plan of attack. He pulled into a small parking lot off a deserted street and said nothing until he found a spot to pull the car into.

"I don't think you give your sister enough credit." He finally said as he shifted into park.

"You don't know my sister." Came Olivia's clipped reply.

"I know you," Peter snapped back, making no effort to budge. His face was still perfectly arranged, perfectly in order. "And I know you'd want to know, if the situation were reversed."

Olivia sucked down a deep breath, unable to really put together into words exactly what she wanted to say. She sensed something in the way Peter was talking to her; the way he was prying. She didn't like it. Peter's eyes were still dark, the blue melted into a flat black.

"But the situation's not reversed. She doesn't have to deal with what I have to deal with, every single day." Olivia said, never shrinking from Peter's gaze. "That's why she's different. Why she gets to be different. Because she doesn't have to know about all the horrific things that are out there. She can have a shot at a normal life."

"Is that what you want? A normal life?" Peter tried to ask but she shakes her head so vehemently he stopped.

"I want the _choice_. I can't even have a normal relationship with a man for Christ's sake." She grumbled, fingering the invisible dirt under her nails. She felt lopsided, irrationally angry and so tired.

"I spent the day in a basement lab under hypnosis with a mad scientist vicariously having sex with a woman, _as a man_, before killing her," she continued and the sounds haunt Peter's memory again, forcing him to look away. "How could I explain that to my sister without sounding crazy?"

"Have you even tried?" He finally said.

If it weren't for the exhaustion she probably wouldn't laugh. But it comes out as an angry guffawing noise, and Peter's afraid he might have pushed too hard.

"Look, if Rachel's anything like you, she's probably smart enough to know that you do…isn't normal. You got through the shock of it and you're getting on just fine," Peter shifted into the space that separated them. Olivia's haggard face looked back and he bit back a laugh.

"Okay, maybe you're not _fine_ but," he raked his fingers through his hair, "but you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for sometimes. All I'm suggesting is that maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone once in a while. Someone who isn't clinically insane or—"

"A conman?" she supplied and Peter stuttered.

"Well, yeah." He finally settled.

Olivia looked him straight in the face for a moment and he had to keep himself from moving, letting her conclude whatever it was she wanted, seeing which way she tipped.

"She talks about you," she finally said, voice low and face shadowed. "My sister."

Peter's eyebrows almost shot off his forehead.

"Oh yeah?"

Olivia sunk back into her seat, looking decidedly resigned and tired of the conversation, a moment's nod away from falling asleep sitting up.

Peter feels her shift in his favor, the electrical charge in the car that zigged-zagging cross the hair on his body. He feels her tipping, her guard crashing. He can do it. It wouldn't be hard at this point, he'd worked a lot harder on easier women before; this would be easy. The guttural reminder of her voice lingers, and he breaks out in one agonizing body shiver that he keeps hidden. All he'd have to do is lean forward, say something encouraging, and then something to put her in competition with her sister, because those were her triggers. And then he'd get to see what she tasted like.

"Peter?" Olivia said eventually, and Peter pulled back a millimeter.

"Yeah?" he said, suddenly terrified of being trapped in the car with her. The static's gone, his heart's hammering traitorously in his chest and he suddenly feels like he's been holding his breath for too long. What was he doing?

Olivia leaned in, closing the gap between the seats, her mouth hot against his ear. His mouth opened as he waited, straining to hear her. Her voice had the same consistency as the throaty moans in the lab, her words barely above a whisper.

"You go near my sister and I'll kill you."

He believed her. And goddamn it if it didn't turn him on even more.


End file.
